There's Something About Jimmy
by Miranda Sparks
Summary: Jimmy Olsen, the Daily Planet's own cub reporter lands another exclusive thanks to one of his trademark disguises. Though Lois' suspicions are soon aroused. How many female 'disguises' does Jimmy have in his closet anyway?


**Superman:  
There's Something About Jimmy...**

* * *

Every eye in the room turned to follow her. Step after step in those strapped heels she made her way across the office, only pausing to wink playfully at those who were taken aback in particular amazement. You would it was as though she had a hypnotic quality they way they stared, up her legs past the red miniskirt, up the black short-sleeved blouse, past the silver pendant hanging around her neck to that wicked grin and those sparkling green eyes full of enthusiasm. Those who'd been at the Planet long enough didn't even bat an eyelid while the rest stood dumbfounded at the fact that Jimmy Olsen made such an attractive young woman.

"Make way, people! Pulitzer prize winning material coming through!" Though some might have argued that he looked absolutely ridiculous at that very moment Jimmy was on top of the world, and with good reason. It was only less than an hour ago that he'd snatched the inside pictures of a police raid on an Intergang warehouse. Superman had helped the police confiscate countless weapons smuggled from Apokalips and the Daily Planet had the exclusive.

Be that as it may you might ask yourselves what any of this has to do with parading around in women's clothing, but for Jimmy it was all relatively straight forward. Perhaps it was his method of keeping a secret identity, a means of getting into places a cub reporter couldn't that had prompted him to put together a personalized 'disguise kit', though despite what some might think there were only a few that were female. It just so happened today that was the disguise he'd chosen that day.

"Olsen! Fetch my coffee and answer my phonecalls!"

"I'm not your secretary, chief. I'm a photographer, remember?" He laid the folder down on Perry White's polished oak desk and leaned on it expectantly, keen for his approval. It was the kind of story that was bound to bump the new OJ trial back to page six.

"Not dressed like that, you aren't." Perry probably wasn't even aware of his own snide remark as he shuffled through picture after picture. His smile said it all, shining widely and flashing his teeth almost joyously. "These are amazing, Jimmy. Keep this up and you'll be up for another promotion."

"Thanks, chief!"

"Now go on," he huffed, shooing him away. "Get out of here. Go treat yourself! Buy yourself something pretty!"

It was right then that Jimmy giggled and bounced out of the office in a way that can only be described as a little too 'in character'. That was probably how all of this business started with Lois. She'd noticed the way the young 'Miss' Olsen carried himself as he returned to his desk, perfectly comfortable with a long, brunette wig and false breasts.

Lois stood from her desk and called to him as he passed, her eyebrow raised curiously. "You're just going to take that kind of talk, Jimmy?" We'd both seen Jimmy in a skirt countless times before, but it still seemed amusing to have a poke.

Every time he would walk by and smile happily, dismissing the jokers with a casual wave. "Ease up, Lois. It's just a bit of fun."

Suddenly there was a familiar twinkle in Lois' eye. It was as though she was a shark and she'd just scented blood in the water. Her prey was right in front of her and she was ready to pounce: all she needed was the proof. I could already tell her mind was scrutinizing every detail when she leaned over my desk. "Clark," she said, gently snatching my attention away from the keyboard. "How many female disguises do you suppose that Jimmy has?"

It wasn't something I'd put a lot of thought into before that moment. To be honest I'd always just dismissed it as one of the strange things that happened in a place like Metropolis. Though I had to admit, "A few at least. I think in all the time I've been working here I've seen him dressed up at least a dozen times."

"And you've never once given it a thought that cross-dressing for Jimmy might be potentially a lot more than an occupational gimmick?" Put like that you could almost feel foolish for not noticing earlier. "Just look at him. Clearly he knows what he's doing, and he's put so much effort in."

It was obvious where she was going with this, and even though Jimmy was a good friend this was really none of her business. "Lois, let it go."

Though my words just seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Her curiosity had been piqued and Lois Lane was not famous for being one to let her suspicions lay to rest. She continued watching, her eyes transfixed on the way he moved, laughed and shifted about the office buzzing with his presence. If Jimmy's disguises did nothing else they would at least have the entire office talking.

"What kind of underwear do you suppose he's wearing right now?"

It was another cue, subtle as ever, to use my x-ray vision to see through his clothing, though it wasn't something I made a habit of doing, especially for something so trivial. Lois should have known better: it was a conversation we'd had a hundred times before, ever since she first learned that I was Superman. "I don't know. I don't generally go looking."

"You've said that and I still don't believe you," she said flatly, still distracted by her studying. "I can't believe you seriously expect me to think that you aren't even slightly morbidly curious at the possibility of Jimmy being a transsexual."

"Transvestite," I corrected her. "Transsexuals opt for hormones and surgery. Transvestites are in it for the clothing."

Her grin as she stared down at me was almost devilish, wickedly satisfied when convinced that she was winning the argument. "The fact that you know that only leads me to believe that you've looked into this before."

Objectivity had gone out the window. There was no reasoning with Lois when she was in that frame of mind. Nothing would stop her until she had indisputable evidence. She had to be stopped now before it went too far. I lowered my glasses and stared up seriously. "Lois. Listen to me. Let... it... go."

There was no convincing her. The cogs turned as only they could in the mind of Lois Lane, star reporter, formulating a plan to reach another seemingly impossible objective. Though it seemed a waste of her talent to be devoted to a mystery so mundane. If this were the sort of thing were able to frequently distract her then the chances of her winning another Pulitzer were highly in doubt.

"I have a plan." Lois took off like a bullet, charging across the office in the direction of the young photographer in drag whose back was still turned. A number of the office girls had his attention, flirting with him and complimenting him on his look. Only someone as bold as Jimmy Olsen could get away with a pickup like that. He was so caught up that he didn't notice Lois accelerating on her approach. "Jimmy!"

For all intents and purposes it looked like an accident when he turned, oblivious to Lois' presence, his coffee spilling down the front of her blouse with boiling black liquid. She stammered back, seemingly in shock at what could be mistaken for his incompetence and furiously frowned down as Jimmy bit his lip in embarrassment. If nothing else Lois had to be credited for willing to risk burns to achieve the means to an end.

He was locked in her targets and the crowd around backed away. Lois had a reputation for being a bit of a 'dragon lady', not that she knew, but for the moment she was giving Jimmy quite the show. He chuckled lightly, "I'm... sorry, Lois. I guess I mustn't have seen you there..."

"Jimmy... I have an interview with the Mexican president this afternoon about changes to US immigration laws," she seethed falsely. "I was going to ask you to come along and take some pictures, but now look at me!"

Of course it was a lie. Lois was in the office for most of the day, but after being out in the field doing undercover work that wasn't something that Jimmy would have known. Instead he sighed, brushed his hair from his guilty expression and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. Yeah, I can take some pictures for you..."

"Pictures don't get coffee stains out," she chided. "And look, it's white. It's not as though I can just cover it up." From across the room I could hear the slight nuances of her body: the kind you need super-hearing to pick up on. She was fighting herself to not suddenly break out laughing. Fortunately she had an amazing poker face that had saved her life countless times.

Through his fretting Jimmy thought, bouncing his head back and forth as he did. His grasp of his character really was quite extraordinary, whether he realised he was doing it or not. Even the natural pitch of his voice had shifted as he spoke: perhaps the clothes really did make the man.

"There's a clothing store downstairs," he reasoned happily. "We can go down, in and out in five minutes, we can charge it on the Planet account. What do you say?"

"It doesn't matter what I'd say. Perry would say no."

"But..."

"It was your coffee. _You_ have to pay for it!" To the untrained eye one would be inclined to think that Lois Lane was being needlessly cruel. What she was in fact doing was creating an intricate web to lure Jimmy out of the office and into a clothing store in order to gage his reactions in a different environment. I wish I could say that this kind of trickery didn't happen all the time on slow news days, but that would bring into question my journalistic integrity.

Reluctantly Jimmy was dragged away to the elevator, complaining about how it was only an accident and that Lois was overreacting. She wasn't really going to make him pay: after all, Jimmy was a friend. Though since she'd breached the subject it did seem odd that Jimmy didn't once protest about not having the opportunity to change.

* * *

Nearly an hour had passed and they still hadn't returned. What could have been taking them so long? Even with my super-hearing it took far too long to sort through the cluttered conversations of the department store: it was much easier when someone was alone in a dank basement or screaming for their life.

Every few moments the phone would ring for either Lois or myself. Part of the fun of married life was a shared workload I told myself, though it didn't seem to translate too well into an office relationship. Either way I could only cover for her for so long and prayed that she hurried back with what she wanted. That way we could at least hope to salvage the afternoon.

With a quiet ping the elevator doors slid open and out stepped Lois with Jimmy, now dressed in his everyday slacks and a jacket, every bit a young man. The two professionals smiled to each other and parted ways, heading to their corners of the office.

"Thanks for lunch, Lois," he said meekly. "You really didn't have to."

She waved him off happily. Lunch was the least she could do in the eyes of karma and quietly she returned to her desk, looking over her messages and proofreading the document that was on her screen before she'd left. For the moment she sat in stark silence, something underneath her composed demeanour still eating away at her.

"You didn't find out, did you?" It was really more of a statement than a question.

Her expression at that moment was like something I'd only seen painted on Lex Luthor's cruel features. Dark and determined, one way or another she would have the truth and nothing was going to stand in her way. "We need to get into his apartment and see what it looks like."

"What are you talking about? We've both seen Jimmy's apartment before. You know what it looks like."

"We need to look again and see if there was anything we've missed."

This was getting ridiculous and I wasn't going to stand for it. Surely her conscience should have gotten the better of her at the moment. As hungry as she was for facts, for truth, it wasn't often that Lois allowed it to compromise her morality or loyalty. Unfortunately, sometimes, it did. I slid my chair beside her and lowered my glasses, looking at her seriously. "You're not going to let this go, but you need to listen to yourself. Jimmy's personal life is none of our business. It doesn't matter to anyone what he does on his own time or behind closed doors. These kind of things matter to the people who write at the Daily Star, but not us."

Her eyes flared petulantly. I was playing low. "You did not just say what I thought I just heard you say." Though I stared, unblinking, confirming that I did. She was furious at the thought that someone she so respected had just compared her to a reporter from a sleazy tabloid magazine. "That's it. No TLC for the next week, mister."

"I thought you said holding affection hostage against your partner was below you," I huffed, but also couldn't contain my amusement.

"It was," she said flatly, "but then you compared me to a 'reporter' from the Daily Star."

As was often the case with Lois Lane her bark was worse than her bite. Though she'd never admit it she knew that she'd been beaten and silently regretted that she'd let her curiosity overwhelm her so absolutely. With any luck she would have forgotten about it all when the time came to go home, but for the moment all she could do was stew in her own discontent.

What she thought she was doing for the next half hour was giving me the silent treatment, but it was never something she was very good at. She needed a voice, to vent the ideas that bounced through her head and she knew that I was one of the few who would never take advantage of that.

"Even if it is none of our business," she began, "did it really never cross your mind?" I shrugged, admitting that it was at least a possibility but I couldn't know. "The department store didn't really tell us much. There didn't seem to be anything he particularly like or wanted, no matter how closely I watched his body language. When I asked him how it was he dressed so well he said that he had a friend working his wardrobe for him."

"Do you think he was lying?"

"No," she admitted with a sad sigh. "Though it still seems like too great a coincidence that a large portion of his disguises involve him cross-dressing."

"Then why not just ask him outright?"

"I thought about it, but somehow it seems rude." Leaning back in her chair Lois ran her fingers through her dark hair and stared at the ceiling. "It just seems insensitive to confront someone about something so private. So I thought it would be better if I sniffed around without his knowing."

"You know how that sounds, right?" I laughed.

"Yes, Smallville," she groaned. "I know _exactly_ how that sounds."

Something had happened in her absence. The reason they were able to determine this was because of the call echoing throughout the room. "Lane! Get in here!" Perry was a hard man, an old news dog. Now he'd made editor and held together a tight ship. Usually he didn't call out from his office the way he did unless something was particularly bothering him.

Not needing any more prompting the reporter raced to his door, peering in to see what was the matter. "You wanted to see me, chief?"

The editor nursed his brow with a glass of water in his other hand and a bottle of aspirin sitting before him. His eyes were old and heavy and upon the sight of Lois Lane he grinned sarcastically. "Where were you about an hour ago when I needed you uptown? We had Superman stopping a dragon and your cell was off. What's the story?"

"I was following up on a lead," she lied easily.

Though Perry could smell it a mile away. "Baloney. You were supposed to be at your desk all day reviewing follow-ups. You weren't supposed to be out in the field unless I told you where to be."

"I don't see why you couldn't have just sent Clark in my place." She already knew why. I was already out there fighting a dragon which happened to have been imprisoned in a mystic bubble for six thousand years.

"You know how Clark goes missing right when you need him," he grunted dismissively. "I'd hate to think that you're beginning to follow his lead." After a moment's study he saw it too, the thing that had made her so restless. "There's something on your mind, Lois. You're distracted. What is it?"

At first she was reluctant to speak, but despite their differences Lois Lane and Perry White were cut from the same cloth. Sometimes they simply needed answers, though Perry was in a far better position to order them and had a small army of reporters to do his gathering. Finally she admitted, "It's Jimmy."

"Jimmy... Olsen? What about him?"

Leaning closer she turned back to make sure there was nobody waiting at the door. Everyone was happily going about their business and their subject in question was out of sight. "It's those disguises of his, chief. Don't you think he uses the lady disguises a little too often?"

Perry blinked once. He blinked twice. He leaned in and stared Lois dead in the eye. "That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard from a reporter's mouth."

"Come on, chief. Don't you think he does it often enough to..."

"I know how often he does it," the chief interrupted, "and you may very well be on the right track, but in the long run it's inconsequential. He could go around wearing a giant turtle outfit for all I care, so long as he brought me something I can use." Lois was cut off again by his continuing point. "The fact of the matter is that nobody cares. A male reporter in a dress may have caused a scandal fifty years ago but in today's society it's a tidbit. Move on."

"Maybe you're right," she sighed defeatedly.

"I can see that this is really bothering you," Perry observed. Even for a hardened man he was not unsympathetic and knew that his staff had their pride. It was his duty to nurture them or else they wouldn't be as loyal as they had been. As it was everyone in the office was at his beck and call. He cried from out of his door, "Olsen!"

Lois went wide-eyed with shock from what she suspected she was witnessing. "Chief, what are you doing?"

"Calling in Olsen," he stated matter-of-factly. "We're putting this to bed right now."

"You can't do that!"

"I'm about to."

"Isn't that workplace harassment?"

"It's a simple yes or no question."

"Perry, you can't do that."

"You wanted to see me, chief?" Both sets of eyes turned to see the fresh-faced red-headed boy standing in the doorway, grinning happily and still riding the wave of his accomplishment. Little did he realize that he had been the topic of a day-long discussion about what went on outside of office hours. In that sense it seemed cruel and Lois was immediately struck with guilt.

"Jimmy," the chief addressed him clearly. "Settle an argument. Do you like to wear women's clothing while not working undercover operations for this newspaper?"

His eyes shifted over them, from Perry to Lois to Perry again while he waded through his confusion, wondering if this is what people discussed behind his back. Lois could have cowered in fear, expecting a wave of disappointment to come pouring from him at being outed, but it never came. Instead Jimmy smiled, chuckled and pointed to the editor.

"That's a good one, chief," he laughed. "You really had me going for a minute there."

As he left Perry looked to Lois, nodding in satisfaction that all questions had been answered. The humiliation was only minor, but it was necessary if he was going to keep one of his star reporters on the right track. "I hope this has been informative."

She sighed. "Yes, Perry. It has been."

* * *

The rest of the day seemed to crawl by, especially for Lois who was left to wallow in her shame. Her instincts as a reporter, for sniffing out news and scandal was something she took great pride in and was a key motivator in her facing the day. Though tenacious it was infuriating to be faced with dead ends, or even worse to be proven wrong. I imagine she wanted to do nothing more than to curl up at home on the sofa with a punnet of ice cream, but instead she dragged herself through the hours.

Finally came the hour of changeover, when the nightshift would linger and organize the information that had been accumulated for an early morning printing. International news still came flooding in from other sources and only needed somebody on hand to copy down the stories, but if anything where to happen in Metropolis there were dozens of reporters were still on call. Though in a city that needed the protection of Superman there was a good chance of that call coming in.

"Are you alright?"

She lifted her head and smiled weakly, dwelling on the question. It had been a crazy afternoon that only turned more sour over time. For the moment she had a hard time forgiving herself for turning so suspicious and manipulative. "I'll be fine," she lied. Quickly she searched for a change of subject. "How does crispy duck and noodle sound to you?"

"Sounds delicious. Are you sure you're okay?" I shrugged off the tired, unimpressed glare she shot at me, warning me not to push it too far. We were going home together, so I let it drop. The trip should at least be mildly pleasant, and she would vent in her own time.

"Goodnight, legs!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jimmy laughed along with the photo editing crew he'd been working with. He'd been the butt of a long string of jokes but didn't at all seem to mind. For all of his hard work and unconventional methods he'd gained results and would be remembered for a long time. "See you tomorrow, guys!"

I watched Lois who could barely turn around to face him. Instead she fumbled around in her drawer, searching for something she knew wasn't there, biding her time so that she didn't have to take the same elevator. It was awkward and sad to see her that way.

"Lois..."

"Hmmm?" Her head tilted up in faux surprise, expectantly awaiting whatever it was I was about to say, ready to shoot it down as nothing more than idle chatter. It wasn't a game I could ever hope to win with her.

Looking towards the elevators I lowered my glasses just for a moment and stared at Jimmy. She watched me closely, knowing fully well what it was it looked like I was doing. With a shy smile I turned back to her and muttered, "teal cotton panties."

"I'm sorry," she said through a beaming, victorious grin. "I mustn't have heard you."

Rolling my eyes I leaned closer to her to explain more clearly. "Teal... cotton... panties. With a little bow on the front."

"You're kidding," she exclaimed, then listened once more to reason. "Hold on a second. I thought you said that you wouldn't do that."

"So now you believe me." I smiled, knowing that she was at least paying attention. "You put up a very compelling argument and, in case you were wondering, it has crossed my mind that maybe... you know..."

"I think you're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Have I ever lied to you before?" She coughed, traced a subtle 'S' shape over her chest and grinned viciously. "That's different and you know it. I swear to you, I'm not lying."

Staring into my eyes she considered my words. Would I invest in such a cheap lie? I wasn't smiling, wasn't trying to trick her, hurt her or humiliate her further. For a moment she stopped looking at me through the eyes of a story-hungry reporter and as looked as a trusting, loving wife would. She beamed. "Alright. I believe you."

Suddenly reinflated she closed her drawer and made her way to the exit where Jimmy Olsen, still riding the wave of his success, waited happily. Knowing his secret she stood beside him, smiling and tight-lipped, daring not to reveal it to anyone.

The cup reporter almost seemed to chirp, but was still slightly flustered with embarrassment. "Hey, Lois! I'm sorry about before. I know how it must look sometimes when..."

"Don't sweat it, Jimmy," she sighed happily, waving him down and putting him at ease. "You were doing what you had to do to get a story. I've been there."

"Thanks," he said, but then noticed when I came to stand beside them. "Hey, Clark!"

"Jimmy." With a faint ping the elevator stopped and the doors opened, allowing us entry. It was finally the end of the day and we were free to go about our lives, whatever that entailed. After winking to Lois I looked down at Jimmy, studying his clothing closely. "Say, Jimmy... that's a nice jacket you're wearing."

Lois could barely stifle a laugh. The young photographer chuckled along knowingly. I wish I could say that this sort of thing didn't happen all the time on slow news days, but that would bring into question my journalistic integrity.

* * *

**END**


End file.
